The True King of Thieves
by Ryomi
Summary: Bulma wakes up in a strange, medieval setting, kidnapped by a tribe of thieves with Vegeta as their leader. Can she escape this bizarre, savage land, and will she ever find an explanation? MORE REVISION ENSUES!
1. Spider

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Chapter One: Spider

The light of dawn crept of a small figure, hunched into a protective ball, shaking from the cold. Dirt was caked onto her dress and skin; her hair was thick with knots and clinging to her mud-streaked face. A pool of dried blood had collected under her left eye, where tears might've been. Her breath heaved with anxiety as she began to toss and turn in a troubled sleep. 

            In her mind's eye she saw colors, people, familiarity all mixing and molding to form a strange dream. These images spun around in her head like spider silk, inflicting strange and frightening feelings deep within her. Nothing had correlation, nothing had relevance, it was just pieces of her world strewn about in a confusing half-nightmare. She saw her parents, her home, her friends, but something was wrong. They were all distant, all cold and too far away. It was like some frightening collage of everything she loved.

            As her dream progressed, not much changed. Likewise, she continued to toss and turn on the dirty floor, cold and shivering. The fact that she was a mess must've permeated to her dreams, because all the images and colors that were storming in her mind seemed to match her appearance in their sloppiness. 

            Still, she did not wake. She would've wanted to with a passion had she realized she was dreaming; the nightmare was a frustrating one. She could see her family and friends and she reached for them, but they did nothing but fade, or look at her in disgust and turn away. She struggled, she fought, but everything was farther than she could touch. There was a wall between her and what she loved, and she hated it. 

            Now, in her dream, she stood before her home, Capsule Corporation. Just another image her brain had conjured up, for reasons beyond her understanding. There it stood, her home, draped in the shadows of a darker dream world, as distant and unwelcoming as the other objects in her dream. 

She walked towards it, wanting comfort and escape from this strange nightmare.  Home meant so much for her, and though it looked positively sinister at that moment, she couldn't help but be drawn to it. 

However, as she walked, the house seemed to be moving. The frightening part of this motion was that it was moving away from her, and in tune with her steps. If she moved slower, the house would move away slower. Immediately thereafter, she would run towards it, but as immediately as she had run, it would speed up. She would try alternating fast and slow, but the house would match her movements perfectly. No matter what, she could not reach it.

Frustrated and disillusioned, she began to run towards it as fast as she could. How cruel it was to see something that she wanted so badly, and then have it taken away from there. Even worse, it was dangling right in front of her and she couldn't get it. Her pace quickened as these frustrations grew, and the house began to move faster away from her to match her pace.

And then suddenly, things took a miraculously good turn. The house stopped. Her eyes widening in disbelief, she smiled brightly and continued to run forwards, pushing herself to run faster but failing. Nonetheless, her pace did not slow; her excitement fueled her to that extent. 

Her home grew closer and closer, an amazing change from moments ago. Her dream self reveled in joy as she approached the treasured house. Almost there, she slowed her run to a jog to enjoy the moment, confident that she would arrive at her home. And then, a tragedy that should've been expected struck.

She tripped over something. Immediately, the clumsy girl tumbled to the ground, her eyes still fixated on the house. As she felt her knees touch the ground, the house began to evaporate as the other objects in her dream had. Her home hadn't been real, just an illusion. 

A sting of sadness hit her as she watched her home fade, unsurprised. And finally, the rest of her crashed to the ground, her cheek coming in contact with the floor. After watching her home disappear, she had put the hands she had jerked up to protect herself down. She merely turned her head and let it hit the ground.  

Without her home, all she had left was her identity. Her name, Bulma Briefs. 

With the image of herself looking at her house disappear without a trace of amazement burning in her head, sleep began to recede. Bulma's body jerked a little, and her eyes cracked open. Her dream was gone like her home and had she not been as groggy as she was, she would've been thankful.

Raising the back of her hand to her closed eye, she tried unceremoniously to rub the sleep out of it. Bulma didn't bother to reflect on the dream she had just had, she liked to forget about nightmares instead of sitting there and interpreting them as some did. So, ignoring the images that kept fleeting back to her, she tried to sit upright and orientate herself as she did every morning. 

Feeling a head rush, she groaned and put a hand to her sleep-ridden temple. Although, as sleep-ridden as she was, she had no desire to try to return to the dream realm again after that bothersome nightmare. She reminded herself of this, and tried to force her eyes open in an attempt to wake herself. 

At first all Bulma saw was stinging light and all she felt was tired and dirty. But then, as the images began to clear, she saw things she didn't expect to. Instead of her room and her bed, she saw a tent surrounding her and a floor that wasn't exactly hygienic. Confusion filled her, and she squinted to make sure everything was real. 

"Where the hell am I?" Bulma whispered to her self, her eyes darting around to her surroundings.

What had happened exactly? She remembered no events leading up to her position, nor did she have any clue what was to become of her. Had she been drunk and somehow ended up in some sloppy camper's home? Had she been slipped a sleeping pill and been whisked off to some mountain rendezvous? Did she just have some really bad memory?

            The last thought troubled her more than silly suggestions she made to herself on how she ended up in this place. Bulma tried so hard to stop and think about what had happened, but all she remembered was going to bed in her Capsule Corporation home after a hard day of work as usual. She remembered brushing her teeth, hitting the bed like a ton of bricks, and zoning out. What was so different about that? If she had partied hard all night, or been over at a friend's house, she might understand waking up in such a strange place. 

All she knew for certain was that she was lying in some sort of thick, sturdy tent, on a floor with blankets and littered with hay, staring up to a weathered ceiling of cloth, having absolutely no idea where she was. 

Worse even yet were her clothes. Looking down on them, she gasped in horror and forgot completely about her surroundings. The dress she was wearing, and strangely enough, could be described as similar to medieval, but different nonetheless. It seemed extremely expensive and hand-woven with exquisite skill, every part detailed and important.

            Normally she would expect to have more of an idea of where she was from her clothes, but instead things were made even more confusing in many different aspects. It was a style she had never seen before, and not exactly her taste. Her face twisted in puzzlement and she stood up to have a better look at it.  

            Embroidered with gold and dyed a blue that matched her eyes, it fit her as though it were tailored to her form. If this were true, that would mean someone else had it made for her, she knew she wouldn't pick out the dress herself, it really wasn't her style. But who made it for her and why? All she knew was that it was someone rich.

            Realizing it was dirty, she tried to get some dirt off of it, but Bulma knew that it was hopelessly stained. It was almost as if she had rolled around in mud, her hair, skin, and especially her pricey dress were covered in filth. This led to yet more questions. How had she come to this position?

This place was frighteningly bizarre for her, but she had to ignore her fear. She had to think logically and practically of what to do. Bulma was wearing a strange dress in a strange tent and the best thing to do was to stop and figure out why. 

Immediately she recalled how this whole time she had used her sight to observe her surroundings. As a scientist she knew it would take more than that. Bulma had to listen for any clues as to why she was here and where she was. Then, she could start figuring out how to get back home.

She absent-mindedly combed her hair with her dirty fingernails while listening carefully to any noise. Voices arose from the tent adjacent and she nearly leapt with joy. She wasn't alone, which meant someone could explain to her what was going on. This meant a great deal to the confused Bulma, so she strained and listened carefully.  

"You know, your highness, Kyrinn might prove himself to be more than just another foolish challenger of your authority, he might actually become somewhat of a difficulty."

Questioned flooded but she banished them. Bulma had to access the situation and gather what information she could. So there was some rebellion occurring in this place, but she still had no clue where this place was. Not much interest held there. Who were these people and why was she here?

A defiant snort came from another man and she wondered absently how many men there were. "You never hesitate to test my patience, do you? If you really want to continue to waste my time with your paranoia perhaps you should spare me any sort of prattle about who's next to overthrow me," the man started, "The fool who calls himself Kyrinn has two talents. Music and failure. These talents, unless you want to insist otherwise and again waste my time, will do him little good in winning him leadership. Why don't we leave leadership to the leaders, not the babbling idiots?"

Now she knew that this Kyrinn was a musician and that whoever was talking seemed like a pompous ass. Also, this pompous ass happened to be king for the moment. Frustrated that none of this information was important, Bulma mentally urged them to clue her in as to why she was here. 

"Your highness!" the other one, who spoke with a softer and gentler voice, said quickly, "of course you are the wisest choice for leader, but what if the tribe does not completely agree? Kyrinn has charmed his way into their hearts, and I can assure you he has a far better chance of success than he deserves."

"Yes, yes, this is all true, but it still amounts to nearly nothing. I am a better leader and unless every thief in the tribe is a madman, they will come to realize this."

            Bulma had to restrain herself from snorting in disgust. She would've without hesitation, but she was eavesdropping so her presence had to remain unknown. 

"Of course your highness," the other stuttered, "they'd be daft not to see your talent as leadership." 

            "Yes, well, that much is obvious. What isn't, however, is why Kyrinn has gained any popularity at all. It seems as though my group of thieves has dropped far below my expectations of them, however low they may be."

            "I'm disappointed as well. I only hope I have been of adequate service to you, your highness." 

            A grunt was the only answer. Afterwards, a lengthy and perhaps awkward pause followed. 

"Well then, perhaps I should check on our little… hostage," he said the last part rather jokingly. 

Bulma leaned forward intently. Were they talking about her?

"Who? Ahh yes, that wench we picked up in the forest. Go ahead and estimate her worth, I can't have troublesome women running about the tribe, now can I?"

Bulma stirred angrily with a mix of aggravation and excitement that she had been mentioned. So they were having some sort of leadership debate and in the midst of this they picked her up in the forest for no apparent reason. They didn't seem to have a clue why she was there either, but at least they could tell her where she was. Still, she was bothered by this king person because he had referred to her as a "wench" and acted like an arrogant jerk throughout the whole conversation. 

"Your majesty, perhaps you should check on her, I'm not very good about judging women, especially to your… specific needs."

            Bulma's posture stiffened a bit and she silently prayed that wasn't an innuendo.

"Very well," he muttered, and walked over to Bulma's tent. His figure appeared outlined on the tent and Bulma's brow furrowed with anger. She was going to give this kidnapper a piece of her mind for referring to her in such a low manner, no matter who he was. 

The leader of the tribe walked to her tent, opened the flap, and froze. 

What she saw was a muscular, rather short man with widow's peaks and black hair spiking upward. Hair that defied gravity didn't impress her much, the muscles, however were amazing. His nose and mouth were small and scrunched up in a grimace, his eyes big, and his forehead large. Overall, she thought he was attractive, but not breathtakingly so. He was unique, that was for sure. 

What Vegeta saw was something different. Standing on the dirty floor in front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. He was certainly taken aghast by it, and almost stumbled backwards. He had expected some common whore but what he saw was a blue-haired, blue-eyed peace of perfection. 

 His eyes ran over the features in her face and could see nothing but this perfection. Any flaws he saw were meaningless when compared to the whole of her beauty. How could he find such a treasure in the wilderness of the forest? How could he have ever insulted such indescribable, heavenly beauty?

This was certainly a shock. It was almost as though fate had bought him this woman; she seemed so beautiful. The circumstances of her arrival would certainly suggest this, but he never believed in fate. And how could he stop to think about the workings of life and destiny when there was this gorgeous woman standing before him.

He stopped himself before he could get too carried away. She was a woman, he had to remember. A beautiful one, but a woman nonetheless. Women could only mean one thing: trouble.

So assuming his natural, casual position, he looked her up and down once more (only this time far more judgmentally), frowned in disgust, and said, "so is this the flea-bitten forest peasant that annoying pest of a boy tried to surprise me with? To think I expected anything more of him."

Bulma's face twisted in revolt. "Uh excuse me, can you tell me where I am? "

"That won't be necessary," he said waiving his hand, "you have a purpose here, if you can conceive it, and I have full intention of you completing this by…. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow will do fine."

Bulma didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, but curiosity was getting tiresome. Instead of asking, she planted her hands on her hips and through clenched teeth said, "LOOK, I'm not going to say this again, who are you and where am I?"

He stared at her quizzically. Never had he seen such fire in a human woman. Perhaps she was a sorceress; it would explain her beauty and appearance in the forest. "Are you a sorceress, woman? Is that what you were doing in the forest?"

"Forest? Sorceress? What are you talking about?" This confusion, however, did not phase her anger, "Anyway, I have to be getting back to Capsule Corporation Can you PLEASE tell me where I am?"

His expression melted to a similar confusion and he looked her up and down once more. "What are you babbling about? If you're not a sorceress, what are you, mad?"

She laughed. "I know SOMEONE's been playing too many role-playing video games. How about you get your head out of Final Fantasy or whatever it is you're into and tell me how to get out of here?"

"Role-playing what? Fantasies?" His frustration was evident. "Is this some Miyana babble you're pestering me with?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't know what a video game is," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Nay, you annoying madwoman, I have never heard of such a game."

She stopped and looked him carefully in the eye. "Have you been living in a cave for the past 300 years, or something?"

"Of course not! Now answer me, are you Miyanan, or not?"

Bulma was getting tired already of constant question and answers that only confused the person more. "Ok," she said, holding up a hand in defeat, "since we don't seem to have any clue about what each other is saying, why don't we start at the beginning. What year is it?"

"Is this a joke? It's 2490! Why do you act as if you don't know this?"

"EXSCUSE ME? Don't tell me I ended up on some kind of time machine my dad built and didn't tell me about!" she paced around infuriated, thoughts crowding around in her head. She paced for a few moments, trying to sort everything out when suddenly a realization dawned on her.  

"No, wait, you said it's 2400 and something, I'm sure by now you guys have plenty of time machines and can get me back in no time. Wow, no problem there."

"Machines? The only machine I've heard of is a pulley. An advanced but useless device, if you ask me."

Her mouth nearly dropped to the floor. "That's IT! It's 2490 and THAT'S the best you can do!"

"Of course, what else would you expect? The sorcerers rely on magic and the Miyanans rely on whatever silly device their small brains can invent. Besides, everyone knows that the Creator made the land only 2,490 years ago."

She rolled her eyes. "No way could a planet be that new. Anyway, what's this magic you're talking about?"

"Foolish woman! You can not honestly expect me to believe that you don't know what magic is!"

"I know what it is!" she said, frustrated, "I just don't believe it exists!"

"You don't BELIEVE that it doesn't exist? Are you to tell me you don't believe in the sky existing, or the oceans, or even the Creator herself?"

"Well geeze, sorry, I guess I'm going to have to look into this magic stuff… Wait, did you say the Creator is a woman?"

"Of course, you idiotic wench! With such foolishness, I could swear you're kin of Kyrinn."

"There you go with this Kyrinn person. Is he trying to be leader or something?"

"Yes. TRYING. And failing of course. He's got this ridiculous notion that I'm some sort of run away Miyanan prince. Only imaginary excuses to turn my tribe against me."

"Ah ok, so this is a tribe and you two are fighting over leadership. So I'm stuck in some kind of forest, with some kind of rude king person, with no technology, and no hope of getting home. WONDERFUL. What year did you say this was? Oh right, 2490."

She collapsed into a seated position on the hay again.

"What's the matter now, woman?!" Vegeta said, practically bleeding frustration.

"What isn't the matter? I think I'm stuck in some sort of alternate timeline, cause there's no WAY my timeline would turn out like this. And, I have no clue how I got here and so I don't know what I'm going to do to get back."

Vegeta sighed a frustrated sigh, turned around, and over his shoulder said, "I'll tell you what you should do. Stop endorsing whatever foolishness you seem to be inventing and follow me."

"Why? Where are you going?" she said, but stood up anyway. There wasn't much else to do, as long as it wasn't slavery she might as well see what he had planned for her.

"Stop asking questions, I believe I've had enough of those! If you truly have no notion of where you are, then it's in your best interest to look around."

Since when was he so worried about her "best interest"? She barely knew the man! Bulma went over these thoughts hurriedly but chose to follow him anyway. Whoever this man was, he knew things that she wanted to find out.

"Ok, I'll tag along, but what's your name, anyway?"

He opened the tent flap and swiveled his head over, a confused expression smudging his features.

"You shall address me as 'Your Highness'. And only because it is necessary to know your king's name, I will tell you. It's Vegeta. And if you chose to call me this-"

"Oh, Vegeta! That's a funny name. Mine's Bulma."

He continued walking but glared at her ferociously. "I told you woman, do not-"

She interrupted him once again, "RELAX, pal, what's wrong with calling you by your name?"

He grunted disapprovingly, "Fine, woman. My temper is fair today, but don't believe you can ever get away with calling me those ridiculous nicknames or pet names some woman chose to call me."

"Ok, Vegeta," she said, giving him a hearty pat on the back, "I promise."

           He looked at the gesture in puzzlement and shook his head. "If this is all a trick to obtain some food and shelter, I must say you've outdone yourself."

            "Yeah, me an actress. What a disaster that would be." She laughed and he just shook his head once more and continued walking. 

As she took a glance at him, she felt another feeling sneak over her. Somehow, looking at the spiky-haired king, she'd felt he would be a primary aspect of her life for a while. Sure, they had only met moments ago, but he still stirred her intuition. 

She knew, without knowing him long, she would be hearing a lot about Vegeta in the months to come.  


	2. In White, In Red

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Chapter Two: 

In White, In Red

Bulma followed the man through the makeshift path winding between the tents. The location was nothing more than some tents set up in a clearing, obviously temporary. Such a camp could only belong to nomads, or fugitives on the run. But was Vegeta really their leader? Who was Kyrinn?

            The camp did look organized, and sufficiently run. It was buzzing with life, it seemed everyone had a job and everyone was busy doing it. She did notice sleep rings around some eyes and sloppy walks that could only indicate tiredness. It seemed likely of Vegeta to overwork his men, he probably thought there was no such thing a too much discipline. 

            In any case, the fact that Bulma was collecting all these notions on the camp was sort of an acquired skill from being suddenly thrown into a strange place. She was on alert mode, to say the least, and constant surveillance was a necessity, she convinced herself. Bulma didn't really know when her next meal would come, or how long she would be supplied shelter, so in a way, she was lucky to be living. Not that she was one to worry, but times like these called for pragmatic safety. 

            Thoughts of survival were becoming a weight on her shoulders, so she quickly dismissed them. Looking around, she tried to enjoy the new culture and people she was presented with instead of complaining to herself. The clothes and armor were fascinating, and most fascinating of all were the designs painted on the tents. So much time and work was put into detail, it seemed like this group of thieves traditionally had a lot of time on their hands. Aristocratic, Bulma speculated.  

The word reminded her of Vegeta, and she turned to steal a glance at him. As she looked at Vegeta she understood why he had requested to be called "Your Highness". His walk was ruthless, his appearance rugged and untamed, his tunic lined with gold thread suggesting great wealth. If anyone were the leader, it would be him.

Suddenly, a voice sounded that was obviously aimed at this king. "Vegeta, you conniving little devil! Walking around with such a lovely woman and not introducing her to me," the voice said adding, "Trying to keep all the beautiful women to yourself, shame on you."

Bulma turned to see a tall, well-built but rather scrawny man with beautiful green eyes and dirty dark brown hair, wind-tossed and streaking across his face. He wore a tunic, assumable a peasant's one, and some armor covering only his forearms and shins. His nose seemed a bit long, and his ears strangely small. But despite his flaws, he was considerably handsome. She smiled at him cheerfully, trying to be polite.

"Hi, I'm Bulma," she said, he took her hand gently and kissed it. She saw Vegeta from the corner of her eye scowling. Then again, that was mostly all he did.

"And I am Kyrinn, your humble servant," he said while releasing her hand. Bulma still smiled, but wasn't too impressed by his charm.

"Aren't you and Vegeta competing for leadership? Kind of hard to be my 'humble servant' if you're king of whatever this is," she said with a giggle.

He smiled and his eyes never left hers. "Yes, I do suppose there is a bit of competition between us. Vegeta likes to convince himself he has the upper hand, but don't let him fool you."

"Perhaps you should consider 'convincing yourself' to bite your tongue before I punish you for treason," Vegeta started, his temper and patience exploding in flames. His mood always went afoul when Kyrinn was near, something Bulma was now becoming aware of.

Kyrinn, however, paid no heed to his threat and continued. "Bulma, you've given me the impression that our dear friend Vegeta here has not explained to you your whereabouts."

Bulma shook her head, and ignored Vegeta and his now firmly clenched jaw and death grip on his sheathed sword.

"Well, you may have already noticed that this is a thieves camp, but in any case, don't be alarmed. We only steal from the Miyana people and their allies. Because of this, however, any camp we make is temporary. Also, this is a leaderless 'tribe', as we call it, but I can guarantee it will not stay this way." He finished his explanation with a steady shifting of his eyes to an infuriated Vegeta and back to Bulma.

"But who are these Miyanans? I mean, I know they're your enemies and all, but who exactly are they?"

"Dirty, incestuous, slanderous, monarchists-"

"Please, Vegeta," Kyrinn said waiving his hand, "Stop lavishing them with praise, you're making me sick."

Bulma's eyes widened, "you consider that praise?"

"For anyone but the Miyanans I would not," Kyrinn said gravely.

"That bad, huh?" He nodded, still grim. Vegeta, by now, had stormed off in a fury of impatience. Bulma hadn't noticed.

"Our acts of thievery against the Miyanan people have been only out of mild retribution. They have kidnapped our people and tortured us only because of our bloodline. It was because of this that we fled to the forest and became thieves."

Bulma nodded sympathetically.

            "Tell me something, though," she started, "you don't seem to be at all surprised that I don't know about this camp or the Miyanans. Is that normal around here?"

            "We have our fair share of tourists and visitors who aren't familiar with our tribe. You are a foreigner, are you not? I don't mean to sound rude, but I did notice your accent-"

            "Yes," she interrupted, "I'm not from around here. I didn't think many outsiders came here, so I asked you."

            "Well then, I hope my answer sufficed."

            "Yes, but I still have more questions to ask. How big is this camp? I can't really tell from the time I've been here."

"Perhaps I should show you around, then," Kyrinn said, offering his arm, "seeing as Vegeta has not done the like." Bulma took it and smiled.

"Thanks, you're such a gentlemen," she said. He waved his hand as a modest gesture, and began to walk.

Kyrinn then led her around, showing her the organization system of the tents. He had picked up that she possessed a questioning mind, and consequently familiarized her with the more intellectual aspects of the camp. The tent organization was sort of a mini hierarchy, with classes and stages, most of which people were born into. Some were for warrior-thieves, other for more advanced thieves, more yet for mercenaries, and the last few for archers and cooks. There were a few tents for the women, the servants, and any miscellaneous (mostly refugees), but they were so far down the social ladder that Bulma had to ask before he mentioned it. 

            Kyrinn also showed her to a few of his thief friends, all of which Bulma disliked. As much as she hated this part of the "tour", it proved to be quite entertaining to reflect back on later. She was able to meet three of his friends, who coincidently summed up the variety of the camp, as well as the vulgarity. Something Bulma should've come to expect from a group of forest thieves with such an aggressive man as their semi-leader. 

One was missing an eye, but kept the other one on her chest during the introduction. The other one was more classy and civilized, as though he had been court trained. The end of their brief conversation convinced her that "court training" didn't bother to include manners, because he was even ruder than Vegeta and twice as annoying. The last was too busy with his archery to pay them heed and thus, also rude. In any case, all three friends proved to be very comic indeed, something she failed to appreciate at the time. 

In summery, what stuck with her most about this short excursion, more than annoying friends and strange class systems, was one thing. During this tour, Kyrinn casually accepted her compliments and beamed with false happiness. Once he was done showing her around she was supremely assured of this one thing. He didn't really like her.

She couldn't expect anything more from a womanizer, but her mild crush on the chauvinistic power-hungry thief had left her heart stinging with rejection. I like him but he doesn't like me, how typical, Bulma thought to herself. She did, however, doubt she would miss his friends.

Finally, Kyrinn completed the tour by leading her to the tent she would sleep in. The tent was near the warrior-archer tents, as to not offend her by placing her in a low-ranking tent, even if it were a woman's. It was simple and plain save for a design painted on the side, one Kyrinn had explained marked it as a Kagarian thief tent. This tent was also not very different from the one she had woken up in; it was made out of the same course material and not dyed as some of the other tents had been.  

"Should you need anything, call on Warren. He'll be your attendant for the time being; unfortunately we're short on women. He's close enough," he said with a wink. She laughed. "Pleasant dreams," he added, and left without much hesitation. Bulma shrugged it off and crawled into the tent, eager to see what it looked like inside.

Her tent was nothing but blankets and some candle wax on the ground with a small pit dug around it to prevent fires. There were also some men's nightclothes laid out for her, most likely the only nightclothes in the entire camp. Most of the men slept naked, she was previously informed by the one-eyed man. 

Bulma stood there, her gaze lingering on the nightclothes and the blanket underneath them and she took a moment to reflect on what had just happened. When moments like these came and so many events flooded in at once, it felt normal to stand back, take a break, and realize what was going on.

She had met more people, something that had an impact on her almost as much as being thrown into a strange new setting. These people were different from people in her world, so much here was. But what was interesting was that, like the people from her home, the thieves there had personalities they masked and covered no matter who they were. They dressed their souls up in red and in white to mask who they were, playing roles and inhibiting feelings. Everyone in her world did this, it was something so normal she often forgot about it until she was betrayed or deceived. 

The purpose of this social disguise that everyone wore was to hide from the feeling of vulnerability. To hide from the feeling of feeling raw, or exposed. Bulma came to consider all this because that was exactly how she felt this strange place. She was fragile, clinging to life in a new habitat with fear it would vanish so easily.

In other words, she felt as anyone else would. 

Thinking these thoughts gave her a sudden shiver for a reason she didn't understand. Bulma realized it was dark and cold in the tent, and blamed it on that. She looked down and saw her stub of a candle and reached down to pick it up. On her tour of the thieves' camp, Bulma saw a blazing fire in the center of the clearing. Kyrinn had explained that it was where the thieves of the camp came to light their candles instead of going to the trouble of lighting it themselves. When they were introduced to a new camp, the fire was the first thing to go up. A sort of a ceremony. 

With this in mind, Bulma took her candle and left her tent via the flap all the other tents also shared. She ventured outside to the fire in the middle of the camp, hugging her self tightly as a pathetic attempt to warm herself from the cold. The wind had picked up and she could see the candles in the open tents flicker and the shadows that the light portrayed against the canvas falter slightly. Looking around, she wondered if many of her days would feature mostly tents, candles, and rude thieves, and if so, how long she could stand it.

Unbeknownst to her, a man spotted her trembling figure and crept up to her. He took off the black cloak he had slung over his shoulder, and debated on whether or not he should put it on her. Deciding her favor was worth more than a slight lowering of pride, he flung the heavy garment over her shoulders.

Bulma jumped a little at the surprise and her head turned to the side quickly to see what had happened. She saw the cloak before she saw the man, but from it she could tell whom it was. "Vegeta," she said, turning around to face him completely, yellow firelight flickering on her face. He scoffed.

"I don't need such a crutch," he said, referring of course to the cloak, "besides, it covers up your ugliness." She laughed and thanked him anyway, now wrapping it around herself.

"Vegeta, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?" he asked, suspiciously, not sure if he wanted to have to hear more of her questions that led to confusing answers. 

"Why is Kyrinn so bent on becoming leader?" she asked, and noticed him cringe when she said Kyrinn's name.

"He's trying pathetically to mask his need for our protection. The idiot doesn't realize his insane patriotism to our tribe is leading the thieves into suspicion. In any case, he has no chance of winning with me in the race."

Bulma ignored the snide, final comment. "But why does he need your protection?"

"Other than him being a pathetically poor swordsman and weak fighter, he is also a Miyanan refugee. Do you know what torture it is being a safety blanket for that lowly idiot?"

She laughed again and turned to look for a place to sit down, thinking that this conversation would be long enough to take a seat. Bulma saw a rock that didn't look comfortable, so she sat on the forest floor with her dirty dress and lifted the cloak so it wouldn't touch the dirt. Vegeta continued to stand but leaned against a tree, one of the few trees that were scattered about in the clearing where the camp was temporarily. 

Meanwhile, his head was swimming with contradictions. Vegeta liked that she took the time to converse with him (though of course he felt he deserved it) but her interest in Kyrinn was like a dagger in his heart. To think, **his** woman falling in love with none other than his arch nemeses. Sure, he hadn't known her long enough to call her his woman, but wasn't love enough? He decided to warn her of Kyrinn before he poisoned her with his "charm". 

"Why do you hate him so much anyway?" she said, interrupting his plans, "I mean, what exactly did he do to make you have such a negative impression of him?"

"He's been nothing but a nuisance, ruining my improvements on our tribe, forcing himself onto any woman that strays onto the camp-"

"What?!" she exclaimed. He smirked internally. He had her just where he wanted her.

"Don't tell me you expected better of him. Rape's his only source of gratification; most of the men here don't even realize it. I'm starting to believe his insanity is contagious."

"Oh my god, that's horrible," she said, placing a hand over her mouth. She met him, liked him, and found out he was a rapist all in a matter of hours. I have such horrible taste in men, she thought to herself. 

He glared at her venomously. "I can assure you, woman, there are far more reasons to hate him than just his dirty hobbies. Stay away from him if you value your life."

Vegeta's plan had been carried out brilliantly, and yet he wasn't satisfied. He could tell she really liked the man, and that he wouldn't soon coax her into a relationship. It wasn't surprising, though, Kyrinn had seduced his fair share of women. Vegeta, on the other hand, did a brilliant job of scaring off any women that wanted to commit, so he was usually stuck with whores and bored noblewomen. The rest found him impossible to have a relationship with.

Looking down at Bulma, he felt the conversation was not worth continuing. Especially considering the topic was Kyrinn, something he would without a doubt rather avoid. Feeling assured he should leave, he abruptly turned and walked away from Bulma. He didn't bother to say goodbye and left without a second thought, progressing deeper into the cold of the night and away from the fire. As he walked, hope for her loving him became as distant as he was from her. 

But, as the wise say, nothing in life is for certain.


	3. Corrosion

True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Chapter Three: Corrosion

Bulma woke up the next morning warm and rested, thanks to Vegeta's cloak. She wasn't however, used to sleeping on the floor, and was stiff and sore as a result. She rose and dressed, folding up her nightclothes and Vegeta's cloak. She opened her flap and stepped outside, her foot landing on a ragged patch of dew soaked flowers. Bulma winced as she realized these ugly flowers had thorns, and she reached down to pull out the thorns. Grumbling to herself, she picked the last one out and noted that they had not drawn blood. 

Kyrinn saw her and laughed. "I see you've woken up rested, and a little clumsy I'm afraid."

For the first time Bulma just wanted to reach out and slap him, mostly because she had a very minor case of heartbreak. Not only was he a disgusting sadist as she had discovered, but she couldn't have him even if she wanted. 

So she forced a sad smile and said, "Good morning Kyrinn." He didn't ask her what was the matter, but instead bid her good morrow and walked off. Bulma sighed, and turned to survey the camp.

The camp in the morning was alive as every, people were in and out of tents and she could smell and see breakfast being made. Food, apparently, was made in alternate locations in the camp due to lack of organization in that area. It was a good thing they made it near her tent that morning, it was hard to find. Sometimes they even made it outside of the camp entirely, and just to prevent fire hazard in the thieves' camp specifically.

Looking around some more, she spotted a boy near her tent, or Vegeta's tent as she had discovered.  The person she saw was Warren, a stranger to her, polishing Vegeta's sword. He was a brown-haired; dark eyed teenager, with a childlike face and slightly toned biceps. Had she been ten years younger, she would've found him mildly attractive. Attractive men were a rarity in the camp, something that was surprising to her considering the first two people she met were handsome.  

He seemed shy, the way his eyes were darting around, and that was a trait Bulma liked in men. He also was an advisor to Vegeta, because he was caring for his weapons. If he was an advisor to Vegeta, he had to be trustworthy, and thus a good person to meet. Hoping to make a new friend, she decided to introduce herself to the young teenager and walked over to him.

"Hi, I haven't seen you around, are you Vegeta's assistant?" she asked.

He nodded, "Yes mistress, and yours as well."

"You must be Warren, nice to meet you. I'm Bulma." He smiled at her friendliness.

"Nice to meet you too. Would you like something to eat?"

"Maybe later, I'm not hungry yet. Thanks anyway. So, how's working for Vegeta treating you?"

"Well," he said slowly, "He can seem a little harsh at first, but he has a good heart… somewhere in there. He just likes to hide it." She nodded.

"Yeah, but he's one of those guys you have to have patience around. He's always losing his temper, it's amazing."

"But I'm sure he's treated you well, I hope, he does believe in respecting women... to an extent. He considers men treating women too poorly a sign of cowardice." 

"Ahh yes," she said, rolling her eyes, "and act of cowardice is beneath him."

They laughed, but Bulma added, "But I guess you're right. He's treated me well." 

Warren blushed and looked down. "I hope this doesn't sound strange, but thank you for talking to me, mistress, most people ignore me because… Well, I'm the runt of this tribe."

Bulma smiled. He sure was insecure, but adorable nonetheless. "It's no problem! And by the way, you don't have to call me mistress, you can call me Bulma."

His features glowed. "Ok, Bulma. As long as you don't mind." 

Warren ducked his head timidly when Vegeta walked by. 

"Good morning, Your Highness," he said shyly.

Vegita grunted in response. "You do remember my little plan, do you not?"

Warren looked at Bulma sadly and nodded. Confusion dawned her features. What were they talking about? Were they talking about her? "Yes, Your Highness, I remember."

This time Vegeta looked at Bulma. "I was postponing it but now I've made my decision. Cancel it."

Warrens jaw sagged open but he quickly shut it. "Your Majesty!"

"Don't speak of it, I've made my decision and it's final."

"Yes, yes Your Highness."

And with that Vegeta turned and left. Warren sighed with relief and smiled.

"Today's your lucky day, Bulma," he said to the confused, blue-haired woman.

"Why? What's going on?" she asked.

"All I can say is this: Vegeta's taken a fancy to you," he said with a wink.

"WHAT? How do you know this?"

He reddened, "I told you, I can't tell you! If I tell you and Vegeta finds out, he'll murder me!"

"This plan has something to do with me, I know that much. When I first came here he kept saying something about how I was some kind of 'hostage' and have a 'purpose' here. Does that have to do with this plan?"

He grinned. "You catch on to things so quickly! I don't have to tell you what's going on, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

She planted her hands on her hips. "I won't keep insisting, but this whole plan thing is really getting on my nerves." 

There was a moment of awkward silence before Warren said, "You should probably go eat with the others. You'll be hungry if you don't."

She sighed, nodded, and then said, "Well, I'll see you around, Warren. It was nice talking to you."

He smiled and agreed, and Bulma went off to eat. As she left, her thoughts were riddled with the mystery of the 'plan' Vegeta mentioned. All she knew was that it had to do with her and was cancelled. What could it be?

***

(Note: Things starts getting serious here, if you're offended by suggestive rape with not too much detail, skip ahead.)

By sunset, Bulma was already lost in the woods. She had been wandering on the outskirts of the camp and had seen something that looked like a lake. Thinking some cleaning would do her good; she walked over to the shimmering body of water. 

            When she reached the water it was already twilight, and the darker hues of the sky were reflecting gloriously on the water. Bulma took a moment to admire this scene, dropping down onto the ground to sit. The stars were starting to show, she noticed, and the constellations were different from the skies of her home. It wasn't exactly proof that she was in a different world; she could still just be in a different country. 

            Stopping herself, she shook her head. The time travel theory was too simple. If it were true, all she would have to do would be go back to the spot where they had found her and look for a machine. Life wasn't that simple, though she wished with all her heart it was. Maybe she could just go back to the spot they found her and look for a time machine, just out of hope. It was silly, but the circumstances were ripe for some absurd explanation. 

Banishing further speculations on how to get home, Bulma stood up and dusted herself off. She'd forgotten how hopelessly dirty her clothes were, and reminded, she sighed in distress. Bulma walked over to the lake, wrapping herself with Vegeta's cloak to keep warm and standing close to the water. She bent over and washed her face and hands, the water ice cold and giving her more shivers.  Satisfied, she sat back down by the waters edge looking at the stars and the moonlit water. 

Some time passed, though not much, and she decided to head back. She started walking a bit but couldn't see any camp in the distance; no matter what direction she took. She tried circumnavigating the small lake and looking for any sign of smoke coming from the camp fire, but to no avail. They had probably put it out early, as they often did. 

            With this in mind, Bulma decided to stay by the lake and think of what to do before she got hopelessly lost. So, she sat down, bundled up with Vegeta's cloak, and looked at the stars. Not exactly a serene moment, considering she didn't know where her only hope of food and shelter was, but one without too much panic.

About 45 minutes after she had first arrived at the lake, she heard the sound of a horse trotting. Jumping up, she rushed over to where the sound was before she remembered the Miyanans. Sure, they didn't have to know she was staying with the thieves, but from what she had heard of them, they didn't sound like the friendliest bunch. 

The horse sped up its trot and stopped by the waters edge. Bulma looked up at the rider and sighed a mix of relief and sadness. It was Kyrinn, not a Miayanan. 

He stepped off of his horse and looked at her, not saying a word. What's with him? She thought to herself.

"I saw you with his cloak," he said, walking towards her, "You've become his new wench, haven't you?"

She paused. He lent me a cloak, big deal, she thought, that makes us lovers all of a sudden?

"Yeah, he gave me his cloak, but I was cold. That's it. Why the attitude?" Bulma glared at him for the implication. She was developing an attitude of her own.

He scoffed. "You can't hide it from me, you know. Vegeta wasn't sleeping in his tent last night, and everyone's been telling me about your little night of passion with him."

Rumor's are a bitch, Bulma thought. "Well they're wrong, I didn't sleep with Vegeta. Why the hell do you care, anyway?"

He laughed. "Of course, Vegeta didn't tell you about his plan. You know, Bulma dear, our tribe is a democracy. Poor Vegeta was so frightened he wouldn't be leader that he kidnapped a wench in the forest and decided to threaten her to vote for him. I see that his plan has changed."

"Yeah, it's changed alright, this morning he cancelled it."

"Of course. He's already seduced you into his bed, why carry on?"

She balled her fists tightly and her knuckles turned white. "How dare you say that! And with no proof! You're just jealous of Vegeta because the girl you tried to seduce like Vegeta more than you!"

He struck her across the face. Hard. "Me? Jealous of that pig! I'll show you something that pathetic coward could never do properly!"

He grabbed her and pinned her to the ground, tearing her dress with his teeth. She fought as hard as she could, swearing and yelling, but to no avail. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you lecherous bastard!" she yelled. He ignored her.

Now he had already torn off all he needed to, and was fumbling with his own clothes. She took this opportunity to knee him in the groin and as a result he winced bitterly in pain. 

Although he was weak for a moment, it did no good. She still was trapped with him holding her against the ground. 

Then, she saw him. He struck Kyrinn in the jaw so hard, blood poured from his mouth. He grabbed him by his hair and bashed his head against a tree, bark and blood scattering everywhere. 

Finally, he punched him one last time in the temple and his was out cold.

Bulma sat there in shock. Things had happened so fast; she hardly knew what was going. Had she almost been raped? The moments ago seemed like a blur, so surreal she barely understood what had happened. 

Tears poured from her eyes as reality hit her and she stood up, trying to keep her torn dress together miserably. 

"Vegeta…" she said. He stared at her, emotionless as usual. She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. "Thank you so much."

"Woman…" he started, preparing to give her a lecture, but stopped. Instead, he just stood there, and after a while, awkwardly put an arm around her. She hugged him tighter and the tears flowed stronger. 

            Vegeta sighed internally with frustration. Bulma didn't know why he had been able to save her so suddenly, but he'd rather she didn't know. She'd probably take him for a stalker, although he was feeling like one. Moreover, the story was unnecessary, he was sure all she cared about was being safe, not about how the person who saved her had found her. 

Basically, the story started when he had seen Kyrinn take his best horse and mount it, preparing to leave. Vegeta had wandered close the stables when he caught sight of this atrocity. Wondering why he dared to touch his best horse, he stood there and watched from a distance. Kyrinn then did the unthinkable. 

He turned and galloped away with it. Vegeta's eyes narrowed in anger and frustration, knowing he could do was stand there and fume with rage. Finally, when Kyrinn was gone, Vegeta had taken another horse and gone to the lake, thinking that Kyrinn had taken the horse to get a drink. Even though he had left in a gallop, indicating somewhat that he was up to something other than leading his horse to water, he still had to take his horse to drink sooner or later. The lake was closer than the camp, and a place where the thieves took their horses, so it seemed like a safe bet. 

            Vegeta had waited 10 minutes before he saw Bulma in his cloak approaching the water. He didn't have anything to say to her, so he turned around and waited for the sound of horse hooves. Kyrinn took a while to get there, so Vegeta had inadvertently fallen asleep. He didn't wake up until he heard a female shriek, and then things went on from there.

            Presently, Bulma was still crying into Vegeta's tunic. She stopped to look up at him with tear-flooded eyes and started to explain what happened, assuming he didn't know.   

"I just came out here," she said between sobs, "And… and I think he followed me."

"I told you to stay away from him."

"I know, I'm sorry…"

"You don't need to apologize."

He took off the top piece of his tunic and handed it to her. Sure, he was letting down his pride for a moment, but he couldn't resist an opportunity to flaunt his physic. 

"Put this on before the whole tribe decides to be like Kyrinn."

She smiled weakly, tearfully, pulling it on over her head. Although Bulma thought Vegeta looked incredible with only the bottom half of his tunic, but now wasn't the time to gawk. Instead, she walked over to the horse with him, and he helped her up. 

They didn't speak a word as they went back to the camp, but they didn't need to. With Vegeta, less conversation was better, and Bulma knew that. In silence, they reached the camp in a matter of minutes, and Bulma internally chided herself for not finding such an obvious route herself. 

Dismounting the horse, Vegeta helped her down once again. Bulma smiled at him and he didn't expect what she was about to do. She threw her arms around him one last time, pressing her cheek against his bare chest. Thanking him in words just seemed so overused, and a simple hug would be enough. This time, out of awkwardness, he didn't hug her back. He didn't even touch her; he just stood there feeling uncomfortable. 

Vegeta had opened his mouth to protest, but he had the feeling Bulma was in a bit of a fragile state. Instead, he waited for her to stop, feeling a mix of confusing and strange comfort. He saw her look up at him with big, teary eyes, only this time like she expected something. 

He rolled his eyes and put an arm around her, completely reluctant. When he felt the barest move from her to pull away, he slid away his arm in a hurry. It was certainly an awkward moment for him, although she looked pretty relaxed. Especially for someone who had just almost been raped.  

Bulma turned to leave, heading back to her tent. She didn't say goodbye, but she didn't need to either. 

As she left, Vegeta watched her go, and could almost still feel her in his arms. Everything was falling into place; a tragedy had worked to his benefit. He hadn't expected to have an opportunity to win her favor so soon, and he certainly didn't imagine having the thrill of punching his enemy in the face to lead to it. 

He looked up at the stars, feeling less empty than he normally did but still feeling abnormal. He decided it was time to go and walked over to his horse. Grabbed its reigns, he pulled it towards the camp and the horse complied without much work. 

He walked back to the camp with the horse and saw the familiar candlelight and tents, all the while thinking of Bulma. Her scent, her eyes, her in his arms, it was enough to drive her into his thoughts and interrupt all the rest of them. It was enough to make him wonder about himself, why he had taken to her so soon.

            But above all, he had wondered about irony. Corrosion had led to affection, and this was very ironic indeed. But then again, so was having your most hated enemy drive a beautiful woman into your arms. 

            Life was ironic, in fact, and it was the first time he could come to say he didn't mind at all.  


	4. Evening

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Chapter Four: Evening

Warren stumbled out of bed as he heard Vegeta bellow his name, his quilts tangling around his legs as he struggled to leave the tent. It had to be important enough to leap out of bed if Vegeta was actually calling him by name, so he stumbled out of the tent and stood in the camp looking for the tall-haired king of thieves. 

"WARREN, you worthless, womanly coward! Get over here!" Warren spotted Vegeta and dashed over to his tent, his head spinning from leaping out of bed.

"What… what is it?" he asked, out of breath.

"The woman's sick! SICK! Such weakness…"

"Uhh, what woman would that be?"

Vegeta grabbed Warren's head by his hair, pointed it in the direction of a lump of Bulma under the covers, and yelled in his ear, "The only woman in this goddamn tribe!"

"Yes, sorry Your Majesty," he said, wincing. It was too early in the morning to be **thinking**, much less have your ear being yelled into. He rubbed his now sore head and asked meekly, "What's come over her?"

A groan was heard from under the covers, along with the mumbling, "Doctor… I need a doctor…"

Vegeta stared at the lump, infuriated. "She's too sick to even move. Or perhaps it's all just one lovely game of pretend."

"I doubt it, sire."

Vegeta swiveled his head to Warren, glared, than returned to staring at Bulma's blanketed figure. It was obviously no time for jokes.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this…" he said.

"Allow me," Warren said, cutting him off, "You want me to summon a sorcerer."

An expression of painful disgust spread over his features and Vegeta looked as though something decaying and rancid had just been rubbed into his face. "Yes, we don't have a choice."

Warren nodded. "I'll find the sorceress," he said, walking off. Vegeta grabbed a fistful of fabric from his clothes and he jerked backwards.

"Surely you jest," Vegeta said, glaring with his usual glare. 

Warren reddened shook his head and Vegeta's glare intensified tenfold. "Send someone else."

He gulped, turned redder, than nodded. 

"Normally I would send Kyrinn but he seems to have disappeared."

"STAY HERE, YOU IDIOTIC SUBSTITUTE FOR A MAN, I'LL GO."

Warren dashed behind the tent in fear and curled up into a defensive ball. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned Kyrinn.

***

Rane, a sorceress from the Western forest, was called. She was clad in the typical gold thread sorceress attire, with the classic armlet and gauntlet made of the finest metals, undoubtedly. It was rare to find a sorceress who wasn't of high class, so the gold and fine weaponry and armor were typical of the sorcerers. Being exiled in the woods left them with bitter feelings towards the Miyanans, but they retained their high-class eloquence and style. 

All of this added up to a very out of place woman amidst a group of all male thieves who were, to say the least, anything but high-class. She wasn't at all disgusted by this, and instead, tossed her finely braided golden hair behind her shoulders and smiled politely to the men who expected to be the latest doormats for their new guest. She received odd looks of disbelief in return, but ignored them and continued.

"So tell me, Your Highness, where is this poor ill child?" she said, her head shifting from side to side in a search. 

"The woman's in that tent over there. And please, hurry up, I have more pressing matters to attend to," he said trying his best not to sound worried. Strangely enough, he failed to the people who knew him well. 

Rane nodded briskly, her yellow hair- so yellow it was only natural for a sorceress- bobbing behind her. She opened the flap timidly and her golden eyes widened as she saw Bulma's pallid face and a body buried amongst the covers.

"This looks as if it will prove to be a bit of a challenge," she said, still standing outside the tent holding the flap open. She was oblivious to Vegeta's glare as she stepped inside and closed the flap behind her, leaning over to inspect the sick child.

Meanwhile, Vegeta waited impatiently, trying not to pace and desperately trying to overhear a diagnosis. It seemed like all of time had passed at a snail-like pace while Rane was in the tent with Bulma, and Vegeta could've sworn he could watch the people around him age as he waited. He wondered where all this apprehension was growing from, but dismissed it as curiosity. 

Finally, Rane stepped out. Grim. 

"Well?" he snapped.

"Get your horse," was all she said. He stood there for a moment, trying to digest the seriousness of the moment before it hit him. Something was seriously wrong.

He rushed to the thieves finest horse, his own, and mounted it, trotting hurriedly back to the location of Bulma's tent. 

"This is what you need to do," Rane said slowly, "Go to the outskirts of the eastern forest as fast as you can and find the Adeline flower. You know what that looks like, right?"

"Yes, yes, sorceress, then crush it and add ocean berry powder. Then what?"

Her eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

"I live in the forest, what do you expect?!"

"Anyway, add some water, boil it, and then make her drink it. Once she drinks it, she can only get better. But only if you hurry!"

He got off his horse, mumbling about how useless sorcerers were, reached to grab the bundled-up Bulma, but she yelped and pushed away.

"What are you doing, carrying me there?" Bulma asked sourly, "I can get on the horse myself, thank you."

The illness had obviously left her in a bad mood, but that could hardly be helped. He ignored her and swept her up into his arms anyway. She gave up and complied, grumbling as he helped her onto the horse. As soon as they were on, the horse sped to a trot and than a gallop, and Vegeta, frustrated, urged the horse to go faster. The thieves' camp slowly grew to be a spec in the distance as the horse sped away, the race against time pushing the horse to unnatural speeds. 

Bulma, meanwhile, had things on her mind besides her illness and the rush to cure it. Instead, she sighed as she remembered the look of worry she saw on Vegeta's face as he went to pick her up and the hidden look of pain as she pushed him away. For someone as cold-hearted as him to show any kind of emotion but bitter resentment could only mean one thing. Love. And after discovering Kyrinn's true colors, she wasn't so sure she wanted to love anyone in this timeline (or whatever it was) back.

Sure, Vegeta was being sweet for going to all this trouble for her, but she wasn't sure if it was anything but just a faint physical attraction she felt for him. Maybe the only way to discover would be to warm up a bit to him, instead of treating him like the rude, arrogant man he was.

So, she settled back into his arms and relaxed, mostly just to see his reaction. He tensed noticeably, and the grip on the reigns tightened. Bulma smiled and played with the ring on her thumb as she thought about this situation. Maybe having an attractive, rugged, king of thieves madly in love with her wouldn't be so bad, even if her feelings for him were mild at best. Maybe she would grow to love him in time. Besides, he was taking care of her in this strange, new place, and that's what mattered. 

She grinned devilishly as she thought of all the horrible ways she could take advantage of his hilarious reactions to her "affections", and it took all her strength to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. Sure, she could place her hands on his, smirk seductively and whisper in a sultry voice ridiculous things in his ears, but perhaps that was pushing it.

Instead, she just leaned her head back against his shoulder and looked forward at the trees rushing by and the landscape passing bellow them. Whatever she planned on doing, she could tell one thing.

Bulma was going to have a heck of a lot fun with all this. 


	5. Only The Strong

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi

Note: Just to let everyone know, this story has nothing to do with Robin Hood! I frequently read stories about forest thieves and if any stories have influenced me, it's them. 

Chapter Five: Only The Strong

Bulma lay awake in her forest bed, looking up at the tree-cloaked sky. Masked by leaves, she could barely see the stars she loved to watch, but now she didn't really care. She had her mind on other things.

Why had she come here? Could it be that she had traveled into the future? Then what was all this talk about magic?

She hadn't remembered much since before she woke up in the tent. It was probably just another day at Capsule Corporation, just another boring day. True, a lot had happened in her life, but lately the days had seemed a little routine. 

Her father had moved the company to a bigger location in Osaka, and she could remember the first few days since the move. Everyone was productive and diligent, all running around with something to do. Even Bulma, who normally had her head in the clouds, had her schedule packed with chores. 

Eventually, things slowed down. Slow enough until Bulma's thoughts were clogged with boredom. Unusual for a girl as wealthy and famous as her, but with her accustomed to life in the fast lane, it was anything but fun. Things started to remind her of the days back when she was used to living in boredom, the days when things moved quickly but slow enough for her to enjoy the world around her. 

Before her father's wealth had seemingly reached its apex and then surprised everyone by climbing even hire in status, she remembered lazy days of lounging around in Capsule Corp. Days of talking with friends, making new ones, and going with all of them to the popular hangouts. Even though she enjoyed karaoke bars and laid-back days around the house, not much really happened.

She paused for a second. Come to think of it, not much had happened in her whole life. Sure she grew richer, smarter, and even more famous by second, but any teenage girl in her position would bore or tire after a while. 

Bulma did, however, remember one incident long ago. Some years ago when she was still a child, she heard something strange about some dragon balls that would give her any wish she wanted. She, of course, thought it was the strangest thing and dismissed it as a rumor. But ever since then, she had always dreamed about getting those dragon balls and wishing her deepest dream to come true. Could it be, somehow, that those dragon balls had anything to do with her current situation? 

Maybe, she thought to herself, the idea of her father creating a machine that accidentally threw her into the very recess of space and time wasn't so far fetched. Or maybe it was. Whatever the case, she was stuck here with a bunch of rebel thieves with some kind of illness she couldn't seem to feel anymore.

And that was another thing. The symptoms of her illness had long since worn off, but perhaps she wasn't quite rid of it yet. And was it contagious? It seemed serious, what if she was able to single handedly sicken every member of the tribe of thieves who had cared for without even meaning too? 

She stopped herself. She was rambling in her own head, worrying just wasn't like her. Maybe this planet or dimension or whatever it was screwing up her mentality because it really wasn't normal for her to worry. 

Turning to her side she sighed. True, she wasn't really scared or anything, but things weren't exactly going her way. She wasn't homesick just yet, but she wasn't exactly blooming where she was planted. Normally she would've adapted quite well to her situation, but what with Kyrinn, her illness, and everything else thrown her way, it was hard to get used to all the changes.

Interrupting her thought train, she saw Vegeta shift around and finally turn to face her, fast asleep of course. Funny, she remembered his blankets and sleeping area being far away from hers, since when did he move them up so close?

She ignored his sleeping figure and turned to her side. As she watched the wind rustle the trees she realized something. Anyone else in her situation would be terrified, lost and lonely, craving for even a small relic to remind them of the world they once knew. And here she was, not exactly completely adjusted to her circumstances, but fine nonetheless. The fact that she was lying next to a moody king of thieves that could kill her in an instant if he so willed and in a dark forest that could house unknown creatures of tremendous might and she was just lying there reminiscing gave her a bit of pride. True, she did always know that she was strong, but like this she would've never imagined. 

She turned once again to her side and took a gaze at her moody king of thieves. He didn't snore or anything, but he was sure creepy when he slept. Most people looked angelic when they sleep, Vegeta, on the other hand, looked like a rampant sadist. She shrugged off the thought; maybe it was just the light.

She heard him shuffle again and mumble nonsense in his sleep. She could she him move about, but in the moonlight she couldn't make out any details. Sighing, she ignored him and closed her eyes, finally trying to fall asleep. Again, he shuffled closer, mumbling in his sleep something to the effect of "Devrick I'll kill you".

Bulma groaned internally. How barbaric, he even kills people in his dreams. Now he shuffled closer to her until his breath was hot on her neck.

She sighed. He's going to catch whatever it is I have, she thought. 

Then, he did something so unexpected she would've sworn he was awake.

He threw his arm around her and dragged her closer to him. 

"Vegeta, are you awake?" she said, trying to peel his arm off, but to no avail.

He didn't respond and she grew frustrated, trying to escape from his iron grip and finally managing. Rolling away, she huffed a frustrated sound and arranged the blankets around her.

"Stupid Vegeta," she grumbled to herself. Being a leader of thieves she would've thought he would away at the snapping of a single twig, but she was wrong.

He threw his arm around her again, this time it hit her in the waist, and rather hard. He didn't pull her close this time, but just lay there with his arm draped over her.

She sighed once more and this time didn't move him. She had given up. Sure, if he didn't move he'd throw a fit when he woke up, but it wasn't her fault anyway. Maybe she had even grown to like him a little more, but not by much. Though she wasn't in a fit of giggles right now, she wasn't terribly upset either.

Hell, it wasn't exactly romantic to have a heavy arm slung over you while you're trying to sleep. The only reason she didn't move it was because she gave up.

Bulma could tell this was going somewhere. Just from this she could sense that she would be hearing and seeing a lot more of Vegeta. Perhaps it would all go downhill and they would become sworn enemies, but who knows. She lay there with his arm hanging over her almost protectively and couldn't help but wonder.

Was it true that only the strong could love? 


	6. Leash?

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi 

Chapter Six: Leash?

Bulma's blanketed figure twitched and awoke, and she rolled to her side and stretched. Her eyes opening and closing slowly in sleepiness, she covered a yawn with her hand. Stretching one last time, she sat up and looked around, her hair tossed and strewn about her face. Vegeta was gone. 

She shrugged internally at Vegeta's absence and was about to think about what she was going to eat for breakfast when she realized something. She was alone in a strange world and, quite possibly, Vegeta's presence meant life or death for her. Without him, she knew nothing about the land, the people, the customs, and most importantly, the basic means of survival. 

Sighing, she smoothed back her hair and arose from the makeshift bed. She walked over to the middle of the clearing, where she could get a better look at the forest around her. Giving the forest a quick scan, she found that it would be better to just wait for him to return than venture into the menacing mass of trees. 

Bulma sighed once again and walked over to the horse, which was acting as restless as ever. She looked into Vegeta's sack of grooming tools and picked one up. Trying to use it proved frustrating, she had no idea how it worked. 

"Geeze, even the stuff for their horses are strange," she said to herself. After toying around with it for a while, she figured out it was some kind of medicine brush. The strange capsule on top was probably for the medicine, and the awkward bristles were probably for evenly spreading the medicine.

Now bored, she dropped the medicine brush back into the sack and took another glance around just to make sure that Vegeta wasn't approaching. He wasn't. 

Bulma stood around for a long time, bored as ever. With nothing else to do or think about, her mind wandered to thoughts of where Vegeta could be. It wasn't long before she ran out of wild possibilities and she was even bored with that thought train. 

She was about to sit down when something far off caught her attention. She froze and walked towards it a bit. 

"Huh? What's that? I thought this forest was empty." Squinting, she could barely make out a hint of it.

It looked like some kind of gray structure, most likely made of stone. The blurry mass gave the impression that it very long and perhaps large in structure. 

"Is that a wall or something?" she said to herself. She squinted even more and noticed deep groves in the structure. 

"Screw Vegeta, I'm going to go check that out." She turned to the horse and smiled, wagging a finger.

"You be good. I'll be back in a sec." With that, she turned and walked towards the newly discovered oddity, making sure that the horse and the camp never left her sight. After nearing the structure only a short distance, she could automatically tell what it was. 

Just as she had guessed, it was a large wall. Though it was far off, she could see it's enormous size quite clearly. She could even barely hear the faint din of an unknown crowd.

"Ah, so it's the wall to a town."

"Excellent observation," a sarcastic voice said from behind her. She jumped and nearly shrieked, but managed to control herself. Turning around, she found the source of the sound to be the one and only Vegeta.

"There you are! Why'd you go and run off? And where were you?"

He stuck out a bowl of some sort filled with a blue paste.

"Getting you what we came for. Now save me the banter and just eat it."

"What is it?"

"Just eat it, woman!"

She arched a brow. "I don't trust you."

His eyes narrowed menacingly. "I've come all this way, and now you're to tell me it was for nothing."

She sighed and took the bowl, and grabbed the eating utensil he had tossed in there. Scooping up a delicate portion, she took a hesitant bite. She nearly chocked.

"This tastes horrible! What is this?"

"Of course it tastes bad, it's medicine! But if you make this entire trip a grand waste of time and don't eat this, you stubborn woman, I swear to the Creator I will make you!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine fine, I'll eat it, but just because I want to get better!" Bulma took a deep breath and scooped a spoonful. Practically shoving it down her throat to avoid the taste, she swallowed it as fast as she could.

"Ugh! Gross! You could've gotten me water, you know!"

"If you needed someone to cater to your needs you should've brought Warren along."

"Fine, whatever." She scraped away the last of it and painfully swallowed. She handed the bowl back to him and he grunted in what could be considered approval. 

"Hey, Vegeta, I meant to ask you, what town's behind the wall?" Bulma asked, hoping Vegita wouldn't guess what she was getting at.

"What town it is isn't important, the fact that it's Miyanan is enough information you need to know."

"It wouldn't happen to be the capital of Miyana, would it?" 

He shook his head.

"Well, if it's not the capital, I'm sure it'll be no big deal if we…"

"Woman, if you think that I'm stupid enough to journey into enemy territory unarmed with no men to assist me in battle…"

"Come on Vegeta! They don't need to know that we're thieves, we can just try and be discrete."

"You are truly mad to even consider such a thought!" he bellowed, "Miyana! Of all the places!"

She smirked. "If you don't take me, I'll tell everyone in your tribe about last night's incident."

His eyes widened. "How did you know? I mean…"

She laughed. "Come on Vegeta, did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Blackmail!" he yelled, infuriated, walking briskly over to his horse in a rage. As he mounted it, she just stared at him.

"Well? Get on if you expect to be there before dusk, you conniving wench!"

She laughed once more and walked over to the horse. She mounted the horse and rested her chin on his shoulder in front of her.

"Thanks Vegeta, you're a dove."

"I don't understand you, woman, what do you want with this town?"

"You'll see," she said, still smiling, "you'll see."

In a palace some ways away, a Miyanan named Elec and a Sorceress named Wynter were having a conversation in a banquet hall. Elec was seated on the long, dinning table and Wynter stood beside him. Above them hung a traditional Miyanan chandelier of sorts, a simple wooden structure with candle slots and delicately carved emblems. Around them were tapestry hung on the walls and rugs of a similar design. Together, everything in the room radiated a traditional Miyanan beauty, a beauty that failed to comfort the troubled Elec.  

Elec was a blonde, whose hair was tousled from raking his fingers through it and whose pale face was streaming with tears he had resisted in wiping away. From the crying, his brown eyes had grown red and irritated, and his fine armor-plated tunic wet where his tears had fallen. 

Wynter was also a blonde, due to her race as a sorceress, with eyes as strangely yellow as her hair. She stood there, trying to be of comfort. Mostly she tried to help him out of an opportunity to leach some of his funds, but she did feel a bit sorry for the forlorn nobleman. Greed always did get the best of her, so her need for money did conquer the ladder. 

A loud noise interrupted her thoughts as Elec's fist landed on the table in front of him and the platters clattered with his rage and grief. 

"Kinna, my love, why do you torment me so? Come back to me! Pity me for my state of undeniable sorrow!" he said, lamenting about an uncertain loss. 

Wynter shook her head in shame, placing her hand on Elec's shoulder. "Calm down, Your Highness, I've told you time and time again that I am fully capable of finding a way to return you to your beloved."

"With your witchcraft! Do you not forget that a Miyanan such as I would never reduce himself to following such a heathen as yourself?"

He returned to sobbing into his hands and wailing in grief. Wynter retracted her hand and placed it on her chin pensively. She had to say something coaxing and fast.

"These are desperate times, Prince Elec, why do you not trust my promise? What have you to lose?" 

"My entire faith!" he yelled, his eyes redder with tears.

"Your goddess won't abandon you for searching for a lost love, will she?"

"She will not abandon me, I will abandon her!" he said, his vision blurred by tears. No matter how much he struggled to be a man and hold back his tears, his grief always dominated him. Once he started crying, it seemed impossible to stop. He felt as though he was entrenched in a spiral of sorrow, grief for grieving sending him over the edge. 

Wynter, meanwhile, rolled her eyes at his overreaction and tried to gather her patience. Maybe if I find her first, she thought to herself, I tell him this and he will have to pay me.

"Very well, Your Highness, I will search for her on my own," she said, turning and walking towards the door.

His moans of grief ceased instantly. Wynter smiled.

"You'd do that?" he started, and quickly added with unbridled curiosity, "And if you find her?"

"Should she be safe, I'll wish her the best of luck and be on my way. But if she's not safe, I will do my best to save her… And then return to my other duties as a Sorceress."

"And why would you do that?"

"A Sorceress helps those in need. It is my responsibility to keep Lady Kinna safe."

"But you are a heathen! Surely you are not burdened by duties and responsibilities of a regular Sorceress!"

"Prince Elec, though I am not a worshipper of the Creator, the blood of a Sorceress still runs within me. I will find your lady Kinna, and though I cannot tell you whether she is well or not because of demands on my schedule, you can have faith that I will find her."

"You will not return her to me? You will simply go back to your life?" She nodded in response. There was a drawn out moment of silence until finally Prince Elec stood up. 

"I will pay you to find her and bring her to me. That way, you will make time for the finding of my beloved Kinna."

She smiled and nodded solemnly. "Of course I will find your Lady Kinna. Of course, I will not require much money…"

"Don't be ridiculous," he interrupted, "If you can truly find Lady Kinna, I will pay you sums that will make you wealthy beyond your years." He stopped suddenly, looking longingly off into the distance. His eyes began welling up with tears all over again and he raised a clenched fist. Wynter braced herself for a sentimental moment. 

"Anything for my Kinna…"

Wynter remembered to bow in appreciation, partially to hid the disgusted look on her face. "Fear not, Prince Elec, your kindness will not go unrewarded. I will find Lady Kinna and bring her back to you, no matter what it takes."

"Thank you, Wynter, I will never forget this."

And with that, Wynter turned and walked away towards the door, grinning with delight. Prince Elec's eyes glowed with newfound hope and he smiled as well without hesitation. He was eager to cling to any hope that could be given to him, though after waiting he would probably change his mind. 

Wynter, meanwhile, was sinisterly content. I knew such a desperate man would break under pressure, she mused to herself. 

Suddenly, she remembered something and stopped. Swiveling her head over so she could yell over her shoulder, she said, "Prince Elec, I have one question."

"Yes? What is it?"

"What color hair did Lady Kinna have?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I need to know if I am to find her."

"Ah yes, of course."

"Well? What's the color of her head?"

"Blue," he said, looking off into nothing, drowning in a frequently visited sea of memories in his head, "She has blue hair." 


	7. Knowing What You Want

The True King of Thieves

Ryomi Hayashi 

Chapter Seven: Knowing What You Want

Before the two arrived at the town of Miyana, Vegeta stopped his horse and dismounted it. Once he was off of his horse, he stood and looked up at Bulma, his arms crossed. 

"Vegeta, why have we stopped? What is it?" she questioned, calming the now slightly restless horse.

"I want to get one thing straight. While the Miyanans believe in the Creator, they chose to worship her in the strangest ways with ridiculous superstitions and strange laws. Ones far different from our own. One such law of their religion but not their government states that any sort of lovers outside of marriage are impermissible."

She laughed, finding it odd but not commenting on its strangeness. "So what? You think I'm going to jump you or something?"

He looked puzzled, but then didn't even bother to ask. "Let me finish, woman. Should they see us alone together without wedding marks they will assume that we are illicit lovers. Then, of course, we'll not only attract great amounts of attention, but we also may be arrested."

"They'll incarcerate us for THAT? That's ridiculous!"

"Yes of course it's ridiculous, but these are the Miyanan we speak of."

She sighed. "Ok, I'll pretend we're married. What are these wedding marks?"

"I suppose we'll have to settle for "engaged", it's not as if I thought to bring with me crushed eyewood bark," he muttered, frustrated. Reaching into his bag of clothes, he took out an already torn shirt and tore off a piece effortlessly.

"Well, get off that horse, woman, I need to put this on you," he said, his frustration growing. She rolled her eyes and got off, her feet kicking up some dirt as they touched the ground. He took her arm forcefully and wrapped the cloth around it, knotting a strange knot that faced the front.

"Done. Couples have one of these, while singles have two. The man is supposed to give his armband to his wife to propose. If she accepts, she wears it temporarily, and then wears another one smeared with eyewood bark powder once they are married."

"We have a similar system," she said, "only it's with rings."

"We?" he asked, tying a band around his own arm as he spoke.

"You know, where I come from. Hey, how do you know so much about Miyanans anyway?"

He scoffed. "Know your enemy. Besides, the Kagarian thieves were once Miyanan as well."

"Oh? How does that figure?"

"We believed differently then them. Disputes arose, and they fought us to the forest, where we've been living ever since. Because our faith permits stealing and theirs doesn't, it seemed the best method of attack. Someday, however, once we have stolen from their treasury, they will be weakened economically. Then, we can stage the Final Battle."

"Why haven't you stolen from their treasury yet?"

"Woman, what a ridiculous statement! Do you understand how carefully guarded it is?"

"Ah yes, they would expect an attack like that wouldn't they?"

"Yes, but nonetheless, stealing is what we do best. Someday we will steal all the precious treasures of Miyana and make our attack."

"Well then, I guess this Miyana place is worth seeing."

He glared fiercely at her, but mounted the horse anyway. "Might as well get this foolish quest of your over with."

Bulma smiled. Finally, she would see a city and be able to walk its streets and buy its wares. How she had longed for such a moment of even remote civilization!

"You women," Vegeta muttered, urging his horse faster. Truth be told, he was pleased to be with Bulma. He hated knowing it, but he looked forward to this little trip into his enemy's city. Because of his disgust in himself for feeling such soft feelings, Vegeta took great care in hiding it well.

He hid it so well that as they rode to Miyana, Bulma was convinced all the way there that he had lost his feelings for her. And under **her** mask, she was disappointed.

Elec was not a man of much patience. It only took 1 day of waiting for Wynter to retrieve his beloved Kinna before he grew frustrated and went to summon his guard. 

Storming out of his chamber, he saw the young squire-in-training, Markos leaning against the wall, his sword at his hips. Elec stopped at once in from of him, sneering at his casual attitude. Markos always acted as though he were the finest swordsman in all of Miyana, despite the fact that he joined the apprentices only 3 months ago.

"Markos, where is my first guard?" he snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"Who?" 

Elec's face twisted in frustration. "My finest guard! The greatest archer and horseback rider in the whole of the country!" 

"Oh, him, yes. Well, I have no clue."

"What is that supposed to mean? He didn't pass by here? He always does!"

"If he did, I would've seen him."

"The hell you would, you pathetic excuse of a soldier, find me him at once!" Elec said as his hand shot out and grabbed Markos' arm, shoving him in the right direction. Markos stumbled a bit, and after gaining balance, turned to look Elec up and down strangely. 

"Kinna must've been something," he grumbled, and casually sauntered away.

"Don't mention her until you or one of you worthless soldiers have found her!" Elec shouted, "and walk faster, that's an order!"

"Sure, whatever," he mumbled, not hastening his pace in the slightest. Elec watched him leave and felt a tear slide down his cheek.

"Kinna, look what you've done to me," he muttered to himself, wiping away the evidence of his sorrow with the back of his gloved hand. More tears followed, and he gave up and stormed back into his chambers and slammed the door. As soon as Markos had mentioned his beloved Kinna, Elec felt a pang in his heart that stayed even after he left. Even the mere suggestion of her absence left him in tears, almost breaking down. He knew that grief would not bring her back, but that only saddened him further.

"Kinna, come back, please," he whimpered like a small child and more tears followed at the self-pity of his helpless state.

Meanwhile, Markos heard sobbing coming from the closed door but ignored it and took action. 

"Weird guy," he muttered. Walking away, Markos took stopped at a fork in the corridors and took the one to the left. He then casually meandered through the corridors and went to the training room where Elec's guard would be. Markos had memorized this route long ago; all he had done while he had been at the castle was train and guard. He needed to know the way to both and he used this path extremely frequently. 

Once he had reached the mouth of the training room, he stopped and looked around at the sparing individuals. The training room was vast, littered with weapons and people using them. It would be a bit difficult to find Elec's guard, especially because he had forgotten the man's name. 

He finally spotted someone who looked vaguely like him and entered the training room, keeping an eye on him. Markos wove through the people, taking care no to run into anyone and to avoid anyone who would run into him. Things were always chaotic in that room, so Markos was wary. 

Finally, he reached the man, who was practicing sword movements with a very menacing sword. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and a look of utter determination was plastered on his face. If Markos had a choice, he would much rather run off than interrupt the swordsman. 

"What is it?" the man said, stopping his training to glare at Markos.

"Elec summons you," Markos said, melodramatically as usual.

"What does he want?" 

"He didn't say, but if you ask me, I think he wants you to look for Kinna."

"I'd image," he sneered, "but didn't he already send some heathen sorceress to go get her? The entire castle is angry with the news, I know it's true."

Markos shrugged. "Maybe he wants backup. Hey, I know you're the most important guard and everything, but what's your name? I guess I should know it since I'm training here, right?" 

The man's eyes narrowed and he walked closer and closer to Markos, impressing fear into the young man. Markos gave him an odd look that soon turned to worry as he began stumbling backward to avoid the man's advances. 

"I just want to know your name, don't kill me or anything," he whimpered, backing into a wall. 

A feral glare formed on the man's face and the attention of some of the people training turned towards them as the man's boots thudded across the stone floor. With Markos backed into the wall, the man had full control of him.

Tucking his sword away with a talented swipe, he leaned forward and snarled, "Kyrinn. My name is Kyrinn. Don't forget it."


End file.
